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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548441">You Win or You Die</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontshootmespence/pseuds/dontshootmespence'>dontshootmespence</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eating, F/M, Fluff, Game of Thrones References, Gen, Sparring, pure fluff</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:54:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,096</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23548441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontshootmespence/pseuds/dontshootmespence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You, Dean and Sam engage in a fight to the death for the comfiest chair in the bunker.</p><p>Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters or their original stories. This is only for fun. It's where my brain goes after the credits roll. No copyright intended. Better safe than sorry. ;)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>You Win or You Die</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>After the unbelievable-yet-it-actually-happened fiasco of being sucked into Scooby Doo Land, Dean decided that the entertainment room in the bunker needed to be updated and made into his own personal man cave. Thing was, he didn’t bank on you and Sam also wanting to make use of the room. He figured if it was very much a ‘Dean’ room, neither of you would want anything to do with it. How wrong he was.</p><p>“I have one rule,” he said, glancing between you both, a half smile on his face despite himself. “No fucking in my man cave.”</p><p>Sam agreed of course, though his eyes said something else entirely. You however nodded in assurance with your fingers crossed in the pocket of your jeans. </p><p>The man cave, bat cave, Dean cave, whatever you wanted to call it, was decked out in the newest television, a vintage love seat you’d found in another room of the bunker that had barely been used, and a new reclining chair, which had to be the comfiest thing your butt had had the honor of sitting on - minus Sam’s lap of course. That was comfy too. </p><p>A brown, faux leather reclining chair. It was easy to clean, which considering you lived with your clumsy boyfriend and his exceedingly kind yet messy brother, was a blessing. It was cushy. It was smooth. It was like sitting on a cloud. And before long it became known as the throne - a very expensive throne that they’d only managed to buy because of their talent for credit card fraud. </p><p>For the most part, you’d managed to work out a schedule, where you, Dean and Sam took turns in the comfy chair. But considering the old love seat was considerably less comfortable than the brand new chair, you began to fight over it. Play fight, of course, but you were ready to brawl for the right to sit on the throne.</p><p>“It’s mine!” You whined from the kitchen.</p><p>Sam called back, his mouth full of food. “You had it the other day when we were in there.”</p><p>“Sam’s right, Y/N. I mean normally I jump at any chance to prove my brother wrong, but that chair is mine today.”</p><p>“Yours?” Sam said incredulously. “Are you fucking serious? You had it before she did. I haven’t had it in ages.”</p><p>Dean replied, “It’s my chair. My chair. My man cave. You two invaders are only allowed in it out of the kindness of my heart.”</p><p>Both you and Sam chuckled derisively, all of you eyeing each other in mock distrust. Eyeing each other in complete and total uncomfortable silence, you finished your meals and returned the dishes to the sink before rushing inside.</p><p>The fastest runners in the world had nothing on the three of you. </p><p>“Get out of my chair!” Dean screamed as you and Sam tumbled into it together. It was technically big enough for two people, but Dean didn’t want anyone breaking it so he forbid two-person occupancy. “If you break my chair, I will kill you.”</p><p>You both stood up, only to quickly try and fake each other out and sit back down. “Oh fuck it all!” Dean continued. “Fine. We’ll play each other for it.”</p><p>“What are we playing?” Sam questioned. His compliance depended on the answer. </p><p>“Pool.”</p><p>“No fucking way, you’ve been hustling pool for years. Pick something else.”</p><p>Dean huffed, exasperated, and mentioned poker, to which you balked. “Fuck that, I can’t hold a candle to either of you in poker. How about we literally fight for it?”</p><p>Both of them stared at you like you were insane. Sure, they’d been hunters their entire lives and they thought that gave them the automatic edge, but you were trained in numerous martial arts disciplines and had no doubt that you could hold your own. “You guys spar each other first. Then the winner goes against me.”</p><p>“You know you’re gonna lose, right?” Sam asked, almost cockily. “I know your weak spots.”</p><p>“And I know yours, lover boy. Bring it.”</p><p>As you followed them toward one of the training areas of the bunker, Dean boasted that he would soon be sitting his perfect ass on the smoothest fake leather west of the Mississippi.</p><p>You snorted and punched him in the arm. “Alright there, Billy the Kid. Calm down.”</p><p>Sam held the door open for you, chuckling under his breath. “Okay, Dean. You and me, let’s go.”</p><p>After what seemed like 18 years, Dean won. Technically, he cheated. Though he wouldn’t admit it. But he won. “Your turn, Y/N.”</p><p>Though he was taller than you, you were confident you could beat him. Without giving you a countdown (cheater), he lunged toward you, but you quickly dodged and stepped out of his way. Sam had lost (technically) but he watched proudly as you held your own against his brother. “Get him!” He screamed. “Kick his ass!”</p><p>“We’re brothers, man!”</p><p>“But she sleeps with me.”</p><p>“Touche.”</p><p>Every move he made, you countered, watching him slowly tire himself out. The good thing was, when he tired himself out, he became more precise about his movements, which made him easier to read. </p><p>When he came toward you again, you spun out of his way but ended up in his grasp, his arm sitting snugly around your throat. “Come on, give up!”</p><p>“We said you have to get me on the ground.”</p><p>“I mean-”</p><p>“Don’t do it, Dean!” Sam called.</p><p>“No fair. A’right, fine.”</p><p>While he was semi-distracted, you grabbed hold of his arm with both hands and lurched forward, using every ounce of strength you had to get him off his feet and over your shoulder. Had you not taken him off guard, it wouldn’t have worked, considering his size and strength, but he clumsily fell over your shoulder and fell on the floor, dazed. “I win,” you said softly.</p><p>“That’s not fair! You took me off guard.”</p><p>“Oh, like you did to me,” Sam interjected. “Boo hoo.”</p><p>Dean took advantage of his place on the floor and pulled your legs out from under you before scrambling to his feet and running toward the entertainment room. Luckily, you were quick to rise to your feet and fast as hell, speeding passed him to claim your rightful place on the throne. </p><p>“I haven’t had it in ages!” Dean whined. “It’s not fair.”</p><p>Snuggling into the chair, you placed an invisible crown on your head and smiled up at them both. “Life is not fair, Dean. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.”</p>
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